Marie Harnett

Art presents a hidden allegorical price between visual beauty and the ephemerality of posterity. How we choose to depict a piece determines how it will be sustained over time and leaves aside an infinite number of possible lives that will only inhabit the imaginary of ‘what could have been if…’. Marie Harnett’s work, through a cinematography anchored in a grayscale palette, presents itself as a reinterpretation of scenography, a recycling of art that generously grants the characters a second life dominated by escapism, the struggle between love and grief, and Greek tragedy. It describes not only the synergy between the classical and the modern through art, but the creation of a new, parallel world, frozen in time, and filled with alternatives gripped with hope.

On the occasion of her fourth solo exhibition, Were you dreaming?, at the Cristea Roberts Gallery in London, we spoke with Marie about the connection between artistic disciplines, contemplation, and the creative possibilities that arise from an instant.

Those of souls, 2024 - Courtesy artist and Cristea Roberts Gallery, London © Marie Harnett

Hi Marie! Welcome to METAL. Let’s get to know each other better before diving into the interview. The title of the exhibition speaks slightly for itself. Would you define yourself, not as a ‘dreamer’ per se, but maybe as an utopian, idealist, or escapist?

Hi Elena, thank you! Great to meet you. I think I definitely can be a bit of a dreamer. I think film, art, and books allow us to escape a bit, and they can change the way we see the world. I’m more of an optimist than an idealist though.

How has this influenced your art?

Allowing yourself to dream, to imagine different worlds and places has endless creative possibilities.

Part of your creative process includes sitting through hours of film and selecting frames to begin with. What role does intuition play in the selection? Do you normally look for something specific, or choose something that ‘feels right’ in that exact moment?

Intuition is a huge part — it’s a dominating factor. I often have an idea of what I want to explore, when I start going through the film, but that quickly fades, and I trust instinct more than anything else. It’s only when I start going through the stills afterwards that I can see a pattern emerging.

How does the creative process evolve from that?

After I’ve selected images, often in the hundreds, I narrow them down, start to build a narrative or theme. Then I play with scale, crop them or add in elements, which could be laying another film still on top, adding in parts from paintings, removing elements from the drawing, mirroring it, and so on.

“I want my works to feel emotive and ultimately hopeful. There might be slightly tender and bittersweet scenes, but in the end, I hope they all transmit a sense of love and hope.”

You also mentioned focusing solely on the trailers, to give the characters a distinct narrative from what they reveal in a few minutes. Do you think the result would be different if you knew more about their backstories and were, therefore, more conditioned by their existing and developed narratives?

I think if I knew what was happening within the film, I would feel like I was telling that particular narrative. Whereas when I select a still, it’s the starting point for my own story — it allows me to be free with it and weave in elements that can change and support it.

What does graphite drawing allow you to do that other visual arts don't?

Firstly, as it’s in greyscale, it allows a sense of remove from our reality because we see the world in colour. Also, it often gleams because of the buildup of graphite — it can look like molten silver. It also lends a certain whimsical fragility: the pencil marks are delicate, there’s no sense of real physical application, which you can get with painting for example.

Most, if not all, of your selected scenes derive from love and grief. What do these feelings evoque when creating art? Why are they recurring motifs?

I think they’re so prevalent in everyone’s lives, and grief is really just another expression of love. Really, I want my works to feel emotive and ultimately hopeful. There might be slightly tender and bittersweet scenes, but in the end, I hope they all transmit a sense of love and hope.

One of the pieces is based on a scene from La Chimera (2023) by Alice Rohrwacher, in which Josh O’Connor is shown holding the head of a marble statue while looking at it closely. How does this scene speak of your way of working with art? Of the careful appreciation of detail, of the classical, of the relationship between past and present, of the gesture stopped in time? How does this scene relate to your interest in what is seemingly suspended in time?

It’s one of my favourite works in the show because it embodies so many qualities: I love the intensity of the gaze, the sense of nostalgia and loss, and how it’s intriguing because he is looking so tenderly at a marble statue. It’s quite mesmeric. He also has a timeless quality that is beautiful. It’s also one of the works that feels like a tipping point.

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Were you dreaming? focuses on Greek mythology as a source of inspiration, especially in the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice; one that is very much linked to the idea of observing and appreciating. You have stated that, for this exhibition, it is necessary for the public to observe and interact with the works from up close, as they can’t be appreciated from a simple glance. How do the two narratives relate? Where does the importance of contemplating come from?

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice sits lightly within the show. I was aware and thinking of it when I was making the show, however, I wasn’t explicitly depicting it. But it comes across in many of the drawings: there are scenes of couples where there’s a sense of both halcyon days and melancholy. There’s a man walking with an unusual background behind him, which happens to be a painting called Orpheus. There’s a drawing with a small owl in it to symbolise Hades, and so on.
In terms of observing up close, the works are often exploring emotion, and as such they feel delicate and they should be experienced on a personal scale. It also separates the image from the original film still even more — most films are seen on a larger scale.

This is your fourth solo exhibition with Cristea Roberts Gallery. How is it different from the first one?

I used to work with just one film and build a narrative out of that without changing anything about the image. I now work from many films and try to create more of an experience with a body of work, rather than a direct narrative. I also change the images with editing. Plus, I now primarily work on drafting film, rather than on paper.

It will also take place during the London Gallery Weekend. What do you expect from the public? How do you think these initiatives contribute to the public’s connection with art?

I’ll be doing a talk with Nancy Durrant on Friday the 6th at Cristea Roberts Gallery. I think these initiatives are really important and a lot of fun! Myself and my partner, who’s also an artist, have really enjoyed previous years, where we do a tour around all the galleries, some we might not have seen before. There’s a great energy, you see a lot of friends and it’s a wonderful way to discover new art.

I have loved no one but you, 2024 - Courtesy artist and Cristea Roberts Gallery, London © Marie Harnett Cristea Roberts Gallery, London © Marie Harnett

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A World Suspended in Time